


lumières de la ville

by atheldamn



Series: Romance, and the Museums of the World [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Combeferre is a nerd, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Grantaire is nervous, M/M, nighttime picnics, sitting on rooftops, there's nothing else it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atheldamn/pseuds/atheldamn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre tries to impress Grantaire with an original first date.  Their ideas of fun might be a little different.</p><p>(This had a working title of 'combeferre and grantaire's super cute museum date' which I still quite like)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lumières de la ville

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no idea whether any museums on hills that overlook Paris actually exist. But it's cute so shh.

It took him a few long seconds to recognise the annoying peripheral sound as the phone on his desk ringing. Removing his glasses, Combeferre rubbed at his forehead, leaning his elbow on the desk as he picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” His voice was rough from hours of not being used, and he cleared his throat. “Combeferre.”

“Mr. Combeferre, there is a man at reception who says he is here to meet you.” Combeferre cursed under his breath, standing up and pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “Sir? Is everything okay?”

“Sorry, no, it’s fine. I’ll be right down. Right down. Reception, yes?”

“Yes.” If the woman on the phone said anything else, Combeferre didn’t hear her. He dropped the phone back into the cradle and pulled his mobile out of his pocket. It had been set to silent hours ago, when he’d started writing his paper, and so he’d missed the three texts and the phonecall from Grantaire. It was also 18:20 - twenty minutes after he’d promised to meet him. He replaced his glasses and ran to the stairs.

So not the best way to start a first date.

Asking Grantaire out had been hard enough. It had been years since he had asked anyone on a date, and he had been incredibly nervous, wringing his hands together the entire time. Whereas he was usually calm and collected and confident in what he had to say, in front of the man he was pretty sure he had an enormous crush on, he’d been reduced to stuttering and glancing around the room and messing up sentences so badly, he’d had to repeat himself three times before Grantaire even understood what he was saying.

“I want you to go on a date with me,” he had finally mumbled, a tight knot in his chest. They’d been flirting and skirting around being something other than friends, but he was still unsure how Grantaire would take being asked out so forwardly.

“Really?” Grantaire had replied, and that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. He’d expected polite refusal, letting him down gently. Not surprise.

“We’ve been getting on and spending time together recently, and I think you’re an incredible person, I just thought we could see what happened if we tried a date…” He trailed off, sighing.

“Wait, you’re being serious.”

“Of course I am,” Combeferre frowned. “What did you think I was asking for?”

“I don’t… I’d love to. Go on a date with you. Please.” Grantaire had taken an unconscious step forward, and it was all Combeferre could do not to pull him into a hug. He stood a head taller than the other, and Combeferre had many a time wondered what it would be like to curl himself around him, almost protectively, and to tuck his head beneath his chin. He would fit there perfectly. Even the thought made his chest ache with want.

Combeferre snorted an unattractive laugh, and Grantaire’s grin only widened.

“Meet me at work, at about 6 on Friday. You don’t need to bring anything, and you don’t need to dress up.”

“You sound organised.” Grantaire lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he mumbled back, feeling his cheeks pink. Grantaire had pushed himself onto his tiptoes, a steadying hand on Combeferre’s arm, and he pressed a bristly kiss to the corner of his mouth, pushing his glasses with his forehead. It was only chaste, but Combeferre could have sworn even his toes tingled with excitement. 

“See you Friday,” Grantaire had smiled as he stepped away, returning to the main room of the Musain, and to their friends, leaving Combeferre practically hopping in the hallway outside the bathroom.

Now, however, Grantaire looked far less confident, sat on an uncomfortable wooden bench with a hat in his hands, knee bouncing. Combeferre felt a pang of guilt. He knew he was nervous about the date, but Combeferre reckoned he’d only made it worse by not even bothering to be on time.

“Grantaire, I’m so unbelievably sorry, I lost track of time.” Grantaire stood, relief flooding his expression, and he shook his head, curls bouncing with apparent minds of their own.

“Moths more important than me?” he quipped.

“No, that’s…” Combeferre smiled wryly, pushing his hand through his black hair and sighing. “That’s actually what I was doing, damn. I’m really sorry, I wasn’t trying to stand you up-”

“Stop. It’s fine.” Grantaire’s smile was genuine, blinding, and Combeferre blinked at the intensity of it. “Come on, where are we going?” He started to make towards the door, but Combeferre stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Actually, I need to go back to my office. I forgot my bag.”

“Yeah, okay. Show me where the magic happens.” Grantaire promptly hid his face behind his hat, groaning. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m really fucking nervous.”

Combeferre sniggered, pulling Grantaire’s hands from his face and taking one in his own. _Smooth_ , he thought to himself. Grantaire exhaled, and smiled up at him. Stood this close to him, he could pick up the smell of cigarettes and acrylic paint clinging to his clothes, with a faint hint of coffee. It suited him.

“It’s okay, you’ve nothing to be nervous about” he assured him, adopting Courfeyrac’s policy of ‘fake it til you make it’, and resolutely ignoring the butterflies in his own stomach. Spending time with Grantaire wasn’t something new to him, but the fact that it was a date seemed to load the air between them with tension, like the outcome of the evening meant something. 

It did mean something, though. Grantaire’s hand felt perfect in Combeferre’s. He wasn’t sure he wanted to let go. 

“Come on, it won’t take long.”

They chatted as they took the stairs to the fourth floor, both slightly out of breath as they reached the top, but both equally interested in the other’s day. Grantaire had spent the day attempting to finish coursework he definitely should already have done, and sparring with Feuilly at the gym. Combeferre suspected the latter was a direct result of nerves about the date, but instead of feeling guilty, as he knew he should, he felt flattered that their date would be so important as to have him nervous. Combeferre’s day was a blur of research, writing and coffee, throwing himself into it as a way of burning off pent-up worried energy. Grantaire smirked at him, clearly also not feeling guilty.

Combeferre’s ‘office’ was more a room set aside for interns to attempt to work in. Three old desks were squeezed in between stacks of books and papers, and the walls were covered in plans, posters, and other bits that previous students had stuck up over the years. Grantaire leant back against one of the desks as Combeferre gathered his bits and dropped them in his bag, leafing through a paper on the butterfly population in Sierra Leone. Grantaire wasn’t the type to stand in the doorway and twiddle his thumbs. He dropped the paper back where he found it and peered into a glass box attached to the wall, containing a number of insects commonly found in Japan. Combeferre found his confidence, despite his apprehension, and his apparent interest in the things Combeferre was passionate about, incredibly attractive.

“Okay, ready.” Combeferre hauled his rucksack onto his back, grunting slightly. It was far heavier than usual. He could have sworn Grantaire was checking him out, but then he pushed away from the desk and started to head back to the stairs.

“So where are we going?” he finally asked, obviously desperate to know.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked already. But it wouldn’t have mattered. It’s a surprise,” Combeferre replied coolly. Grantaire whined.

“But I hate surprises,” he pouted, reaching the stairs and starting to descend. Combeferre waited for him to realise he wasn’t following. “What? Is there something on my back?” Grantaire twisted with his hand on the handrail, frowning up at Combeferre.

“No. But you’re going the wrong way.” And with that, Combeferre started to climb the stairs.

“Wait, what? But we got your stuff? Where are you going- Combeferre? Dammit, I hate fucking stairs.” Combeferre laughed, but refused to answer any further questions, simply shaking his head at Grantaire as he continued to pester him. He didn’t say anything until he reached the heavy door at the top of the stairs.

“What are we- mmf…” Combeferre pressed a finger to his lips to stop him talking, and kept it there a moment longer than he needed to. Grantaire’s skin was hot, and climbing the stairs had left him breathing hard against his hand and pink-cheeked. It was a look he wanted to see again. In many different circumstances. 

“Be quiet. For once. If that’s possible for you.” Grantaire huffed and shook his head, smiling and Combeferre reluctantly took his hand back to open the door.

The cold air hit them instantly, and Combeferre shivered, stepping out onto the flat roof. Night had fallen without him even looking out of the window. The city lights burnt the sky a dark orange colour, nothing like the inky blue-blackness that covered the countryside, but stars were still visible, dotted at odd intervals. There was no moon tonight. The museum was the tallest building for a mile, and was atop a hill, and so offered a beautiful view of the city. The tower was just about visible, and gaps in the rows of lights showed the route of the river winding through the buildings, crossed occasionally by lines of light that had to be bridges.

Combeferre had walked to the edge of the roof, dropping his bag with a heavy thud, and spent a few long seconds simply breathing in the frigid air and admiring the view before he noticed Grantaire was still in the doorway, clutching the frame, his skin oddly pale in a way Combeferre didn’t think was due to the dusk.

“R? What’s the matter?”

“It’s uh… It’s pretty high up…” Grantaire mumbled, not meeting his eye as Combeferre returned to the door. His heart sank.

“You’re scared of heights,” he observed, feeling a complete fool. “Grantaire, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”

Grantaire shook his head. “Not scared. Just… apprehensive.”

“You don’t have to go towards the edge. We’ll sit close to the door. I just thought, you love Paris so much, and you paint cities, you’d like to see it from up here… I should have checked, I apologise most sincerely. We can go somewhere else if you want.”

“No, no it’s fine. What are we doing up here, anyway?” Grantaire released his death grip on the door and took one step out, wrapping his arms around himself. Combeferre, sighing with relief, returned to his bag, pulling out a bundled-up blanket and laying it on the cold floor.

“Picnic? It’s cold by the door, I know, but there’s an air conditioning unit over there, and the boiler chimney over there.” He pointed to both, stood on the edge of the blanket, his nerves still not lessening. Grantaire hovering was unsettling him. “So sit about here, and it’s not so cold.”

“You come up here a lot?” Grantaire asked. 

“I like it. It’s high up, it’s quiet. We’re not really supposed to be up here, but I find that quite exhilarating, actually.”

“You? Exhilarating?” Grantaire looked surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Never had you down as an adrenaline junkie, Combeferre,” he said, half teasing him, but half serious as well. He wound his hands into his hat, obviously attempting to keep the chilled breeze off them. “Don’t tell me. You like jumping off high stuff and into dangerous stuff and going at a hundred miles an hour as well.”

“Yup. I guess most people don’t really know that about me.”

“No, I’d never have- Wait, did you say we aren’t meant to be up here? You mean like, we’re breaking the law? Are there security guards? Dammit, Combeferre, somewhere high and illegal, what are you trying to do to me?”

Combeferre walked back towards him, not wanting him to freak out, and took his hand, hoping it would steady him or something. Grantaire’s eyes were wide, and he stared up at Combeferre, lips slightly parted, his tongue darting out to wet them. Combeferre didn’t think about it, he just leant in and kissed him. It was too inviting.

He pulled back the moment he realised it was probably incredibly inappropriate to kiss him while he was panicking. Grantaire looked shocked, eyes still open, his hand still tight around Combeferre’s. He opened his mouth to apologise, but he could barely breathe in before Grantaire surged forward and was kissing him again, this time with far less reservedness and far more ferocity.

Grantaire’s stubble scratched against his face in a way he knew would smart later. His glasses were pushed askew, digging into his nose, until Grantaire’s free hand came up and pulled them off without breaking the kiss. Combeferre tried to protest about bending them, but he was unwilling to pull away either. Grantaire’s lips felt incredible, brushing against his, sucking his lower lip softly into his mouth in a way that made Combeferre’s knees feel weak.

“Fuck,” Grantaire breathed against his lips as he finally pulled back to breath, looking up at him with amazement in his eyes. Combeferre’s hands had, at some point, curled in the thin material of Grantaire’s jumper, holding him close, and he was unwilling to let him go, even when Grantaire tried to step away.

Grantaire snorted, looking down pointedly and blushing, and Combeferre finally released him, clearing his throat. He hadn’t expected to kiss him at all, let alone like that, not quite so soon into the date.

Thought about it, even dreamt about it, of course, but he hadn’t expected Grantaire to be quite so eager.

“I guess, if we get caught, it won’t be so bad being caught with you,” Grantaire said, almost shyly. “And it is spectacularly beautiful up here.”

“Come on. Sit.” Combeferre led him to the blanket by his hand and pulled him down, sitting very close beside him. Grantaire still looked nervous, eyeing the edge of the roof. “You still look nervous. Kissing you worked last time,” he proposed, biting his lip and shooting Grantaire a hopeful expression.

When Grantaire smiled brightly, the same wide grin he had given Combeferre when he’d first seen him, Combeferre took that as a positive reaction, and leaned in, a hand on his cheek turning his head, kissing him again. It was less hurried than the last one, Combeferre taking his time kissing him, wanting to discover what he liked, how he reacted when Combeferre bit, or licked, or slipped his hand between his jumper and his t-shirt. Both were unforgivably thin, considering the chill still in the air. 

The knot in his chest had gone, replaced by something warm, and both sharp and soft at the same time. 

He broke the kiss, giggling at Grantaire’s pout, and started removing his coat.

“Wait, what are you doing now? Not being funny, but we’re not going to fuck on a museum roof.” His voice cracked as he looked around, obviously checking they were alone. Combeferre knew they would be, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s not what I was doing, Grantaire. Not this time, anyway.” Grantaire blushed as Combeferre winked at him. “You’re cold.” He lay the coat over Grantaire’s shoulders, and Combeferre liked the way that it pulled an adoring smile to his lips.

“Won’t you be cold?” Grantaire asked, even as he wrapped his hands in the coat and pulled it around himself. Combeferre was sure he saw him shut his eyes and breathe in deep enough to smell him, but he didn’t mention it, just turned away and twisted his lips as he tried not to grin.

“No, it’s fine, I’m warm enough.” He leaned against Grantaire, and felt his head eventually lay on his shoulder. “Now look, down there.” He pointed to a street not too far away. “That’s my house. You can see almost all of us from up here, actually, this is a student area. The only ones that aren’t here are Cosette, Feuilly, and Musichetta. If you look that way… That’s Enjolras and Courfeyrac.”

Grantaire’s head shifted against his shoulder as he followed Combeferre’s hand. “So where am I?”

“Just down there. It’s slightly darker in your neighbourhood.”

“Because us poor people don’t deserve streetlights,” he laughed quietly. Combeferre nudged him, and Grantaire looked up at him, lifting his eyebrow again. Each time their eyes met, Combeferre could swear his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his chest, like he was winded. All completely impossible, of course, but Grantaire seemed to do that to him. Combeferre kissed him again, the both of them smiling into the kiss. “Where’s Joly and Bousset’s place?”

“There’s is a bit further away. They’re by that big park, correct?”

Grantaire nodded. “The one where that dog took a shine to Joly’s cane, yeah.”

“The park is over there.” Combeferre points towards a slightly darker square. “And I think they live east of the park, which should be that way.”

“Cardinal directions, seriously?”

“Why not?”

“We’re not pirates on the fucking high seas,” Grantaire grinned, and Combeferre just shrugged, smiling slightly.

“That’s still their street… Thankyou,” Combeferre said after a pause.

“For what?”

“Agreeing to come with me. I hope we can… keep seeing each other like this.”

“God, you’re a nerd,” Grantaire teased lightly.

“Can’t be, you took my glasses.” Out of nowhere, Grantaire replaced them, taking extra care to be gentle, and his fingers stopped on Combeferre’s cheeks. He felt his eyes flutter, each finger seeming to burn pleasantly.

“There. Now you’re a nerd. I want to keep seeing you like this. I should be thanking you.”

“Shut up,” Combeferre sighed. Grantaire’s hands were still on his face, and it was affecting his ability to think straight and come up with a good retort.

“Yeah… I was told there was food.” Grantaire’s hands left his face, and Combeferre was able to open his eyes again. Grantaire was already reaching for the bag, pulling out plastic containers of food Combeferre had cooked earlier. His eyes were on the city though, enchanted, as Combeferre had been himself, with the view. He let out a triumphant yell as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes Combeferre had bought especially for him, and made appreciative noises as he checked out the food. He looked entirely beautiful, uninhibited for once, and Combeferre knew he couldn’t be any luckier.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://switchferre.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Comments etc all welcome. Thankyou for reading!


End file.
